


the sweetest magic

by Catsby



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bad Boy Suh Youngho | Johnny, Bullying, Confused Bisexual Mark, Fist Fights, Hufflepuff Suh Youngho | Johnny, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plant Bisexual Johnny, Slytherin Mark Lee (NCT), bisexual awakening
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26020696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsby/pseuds/Catsby
Summary: “The Sleeping Dragon of Hufflepuff,” Mark’s heard time and time again. A tad over-dramatic he thought at first, but he quickly came to understand the warning and the drama behind it.Thinking of that now though, it’s difficult to comprehend how the boy with the bloodied knuckles and dark eyes and deep scowl is the same boy standing before him now, murmuring soft, barely audible nothings as he tends with gentle hands to his fragile plants.
Relationships: Mark Lee/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 28
Kudos: 187





	1. Chapter 1

Mark swore he was straight.

He was _convinced._

Really, for the longest time, falling in love with anyone that wasn’t a girl was the most foreign concept to him. He didn’t feel anything ill towards his gay friends, it was just, the idea of seeing a guy and feeling… _things_ never made sense to him. 

When Donghyuck came to him and explained how he felt for Renjun, he was happy for them but confused all the same. He just never understood how they could feel that way, what they meant when they said it felt like fireworks under their skin, like butterflies in their stomachs, like clouds in their brains, when it wasn’t a girl they were talking about.

And then, by complete happenstance, he meets Johnny.

Before today, he'd seen the older Hufflepuff around Hogwarts here and there, but only ever passing glances at his tall form and whispered rumors of his bad attitude. Mainly, he saw him in the Great Hall, but apart from risking glimpses from far across the room, he never saw him anywhere else.

Not only were they different Houses, but different grades as well, so it really made sense that they never met.

And yet, standing here now and staring at Johnny, who's staring back just as intensely, wide-eyed and startled by the younger Slytherin's sudden entrance, Mark feels like this is the hundredth time he's directly met those pretty eyes rather than the first.

"Uh," he starts, then clears his throat, lowers the bucket of water in his hand, and glances around the greenhouse. It smells like dirt and green, refreshing, and yet Mark feels like running as far away as he can get, unable to shake the uneasiness of those eyes burning into him. "Is, uh, Donghyuck not here?"

Johnny stares on, expression almost one of awe, until Mark has to look away or risk his heart bursting from his chest. It’s never beaten this fast before, he’s almost worried.

"No," the Hufflepuff finally answers, voice low but not quiet. Curious in some abrasive, standoffish way, like he's scared of the odd air between them. Mark doesn't blame him. "He left, like, ten minutes ago."

"Ah," Mark breathes, bringing the metal pail around to his front so he can fiddle with the handle. And possibly put some barrier, how ever small, between him and Johnny. He doesn't know why he feels defensive, but he supposes it's for good reason. "That's, uh, that's a shame."

"Why?"

That shortness prickles him, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. He swallows nervously, looking at Johnny with wide eyes. There's a good five feet between them, but he still feels like backing up even farther, despite the wooden door on his heels. "W-Why what?"

Johnny's eyes flick up and down over his frame, his fingers idly rubbing at the thin, furry vine stretching needily towards him. "Why're you looking for Hyuck?"

“Oh,” Mark exhales. “Oh, he just, uh, he wanted me to bring water for his, uh, potions.”

The Hufflepuff’s gaze takes a critical gleam, eyes squinting with suspicion. “The potions club doesn’t meet here anymore. They haven’t for, like, literally decades.”

And with that, Mark’s racing heart threatens to stop dead in its tracks, his knuckles going white around the handle of the bucket. “Oh, uh. W-Wait, for real?”

“Yeah,” Johnny answers, deadpan, his eyes unreadable as he looks Mark up and down one more time. He drops his hand to the wooden shelf the vining plant is sat upon and turns to face Mark head-on, and, oh, he’s _broad_ and _tall_. Unfairly so. “You’re a Sixth year, right? And you don’t know where to go for _potions?_ ”

Mark’s jaw drops, and for a moment, it feels like he’s suspended in time, his mind racing as he flounders for some explanation apart from the damning fact that he fell for another of Donghyuck’s stupid pranks. Because he _is_ a Sixth year and he _does_ know where the potions club meets, but he’s also apparently gullible as all hell.

And then it strikes him.

He pauses, looks Johnny in the eyes, and asks, “How’d you know I’m a Sixth year?”

Johnny’s face hardly changes, but the empathetic plant at his side completely betrays his emotions, its leaves shuddering and single reaching vine going straight out to curl comfortingly around its tender’s pinky. The sight tilts the hint of a smile on Mark’s lips, and that’s when he catches the slightest twitch of Johnny’s brow and the ghost of a blush high on his cheekbones.

“J-Just-” the Hufflepuff grumps, whipping away to turn his attention back to his plant, taking care as he unfurls the vine from his fingers. “Just leave the bucket there and I’ll tell him to take it when I see him again.”

Something light and warm and entirely too _fond_ wells in Mark’s chest as he watches Johnny’s profile, taking in the furrow of his brow, the swell of his pursed lips, the flush gradually coloring the tips of his ears. “Are you sure? It’s not too much trouble?”

“No,” Johnny answers simply, but his tone lacks the shortness it held before. He risks a sideways glance Mark’s way. “I mean, yes, I’m sure. No, it’s not too much trouble. Just-” he takes a breath and jerks his chin towards the shelf closest to Mark. “-leave it there.”

His gaze is back on the plant before him so fast that he misses the smile rising on Mark’s lips. The Slytherin mumbles a soft “okay” before turning to place the bucket where he was told, carefully lowering the handle so to not let it clatter as it falls. He backs away, glancing towards Johnny once more.

“Then...I’ll leave you to it.”

All he gets is a short hum of acknowledgement, Johnny still refusing to look at him as he picks up the spray bottle and gently spritzes the plant with some fresh water. Even from where he stands, Mark can hear the way the little thing lets out a faint trill of delight.

He lingers in the doorway, hand on the frame, watching as Johnny cares for the plant and then its neighbor, a similar species that greets him with outstretched vines and a budding flower. It’s clear, even to an outsider like Mark, just how fond the plants are of Johnny, and only a few seconds of watching tells him why.

Johnny’s careful, gentle, and kind. His eyes take on this warmth when he strokes the vines, rubs the leaves between his thumb and finger, tells the plants something Mark can’t hear from where he stands. It’s all a sharp contrast to the rumors Mark’s heard.

“The Sleeping Dragon of Hufflepuff,” he’s heard time and time again. A tad over-dramatic he thought at first, but then he understood the warning and the drama behind it when, just last year, Johnny lost his House 30 points and earned two weeks in detention, nearly a suspension, for getting in a fight with a Gryffindor boy who apparently “looked at him wrong.”

The Gryffindor spent a week in the infirmary, and it’s safe to say no one risked a glance again for a long while, Mark included. Thinking of that time now though, it’s difficult to comprehend how that boy he and everyone else feared, the boy with the bloodied knuckles and dark eyes and deep scowl, is the same boy standing before him now, murmuring soft, barely audible nothings as he sprinkles some sort of special dust over the roots of a fragile plant.

It takes but a few more moments of Mark quietly, curiously observing before his presence is noticed again, and he gets another sideways glance.

“Aren’t you leaving?” Johnny asks, and Mark straightens his spine, squares his shoulders, clears his throat.

“Right, uh, sorry,” he answers softly and turns around to exit.

But for some reason, for some strange urge he can’t explain, he pauses only halfway out the door and glances back over his shoulder.

And Johnny, already looking his way, meets his eyes once again for but a short beat in time.

Mark’s heart leaps, Johnny’s likely does the same, and they both whip away from each other, Mark hurrying on his way out of the greenhouse and Johnny swiftly returning his whole attention back to his plants.

Whether or not Johnny felt it too, that weirdly overwhelming spark in the air, Mark has no idea, and for now, he’s completely satisfied with not knowing, more concerned with how he all too suddenly understands _exactly_ how Donghyuck and Renjun feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been struggling w some writers block recently, none of my wips have been working out the ways i want, and just as i was getting frustrated enough to give up for the night, i got struck w this idea :')) i hope u enjoyed it!! i think it came out cute and im very tempted to write more,, we'll see fsdjfkls
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/longerassride) || [cc](https://curiouscat.me/catsbyy)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, do you know Mark Lee?”
> 
> Johnny looks up from the flower before him, very thankful for the distraction from carefully extracting its smelly nectar. He sniffles, twists to wipe the tears dewing on his eyelashes off on his shoulder, and chooses his next words very carefully.

“Hey, do you know Mark Lee?”

Johnny looks up from the flower before him, very thankful for the distraction from carefully extracting its smelly nectar. He knows Jaehyun needs it for his potions, but he’s currently wishing that he never agreed to help him, that promised “IOU” not quite so alluring now that his nostrils are burning and his eyes watering.

He sniffles, twists to wipe the tears dewing on his eyelashes off on his shoulder, and chooses his next words very carefully. He knows well enough, just as Mark probably does by now, that the little _encounter_ they had two days ago was entirely Donghyuck’s plotting. Knowing him, he’s probably looking to see how Johnny thinks it went after hearing all about it from Mark, but Johnny’s a little more reluctant to give him the satisfaction.

“Yeah, I...think so,” he answers slowly, blinking to clear his vision as he looks towards the redhead caring for the Mandrakes. He eyes the younger’s broad back warily. Best to play dumb, as he typically does when that Slytherin gets brought up. “He’s in your grade, right?”

Donghyuck looks back over his shoulder, quirking a mischievous eyebrow. “Oh, so you did notice him.”

“Well,” Johnny huffs, a bashful warmth flooding his cheeks. He turns away from the stinky plant, taking the eyedropper and vial of horribly pink nectar with him to set both carefully by the sink. “It’s a little hard not to, don’t you think?”

At that, Donghyuck _croons,_ and Johnny immediately regrets his word choice.

“I _mean_ ,” he scoffs, pressing the cork into the vial with his thumb, “he’s pretty popular, especially among your grade. He’s some bigwig’s son, right?”

“Sort of,” Donghyuck replies, his smile painfully clear through the delighted lilt of his voice.

There’s the clatter of the younger Hufflepuff setting his gardening supplies down, the soft thump of his gloves joining the tools on the shelf, but Johnny refuses to turn around due to embarrassment alone, cheeks hot as he busies himself with rinsing the eyedropper under running water. He has to be careful to not get any of that damn plant’s juice on his skin or else he’ll stink like a dead body for a week.

“His dad works in the Beast Division,” Donghyuck informs him, tone too sweet to be innocent. “Not a bigwig but still pretty cool.”

Johnny feigns a hum of interest but certainly files that information in his brain for later use. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” his classmate echos and then, as if reading Johnny’s mind, goes on with a cheerful pep to his voice, “pretty good stuff to use if you want to, say...strike up a conversation with him, huh?”

Johnny’s spine goes stiff, and he knows Donghyuck can see it, he can practically feel the younger’s smug grin boring a hole into the back of his head. He makes a point to roll the abrupt tension from his shoulders, loudly clearing his throat as he does so, then goes about squeezing the last bit of clean water out of the eyedropper, working the little plastic bulb between his thumb and finger. He sets it on the shelf above the sink to dry and turns off the tap, wiping his hands off on his apron as he turns around to look stern at the other boy. 

“And _why_ would I want to do that?”

His hard tone and stare don’t even phase Donghyuck, and he realizes quickly that he’s just bit off more than he can chew as the younger merely crosses his arms, leans back against the shelf on the opposite wall of the greenhouse, and smirks at him over the couple rows of magical plants between them.

“Because you like him,” Donghyuck answers simply.

The laugh Johnny wheezes out is less incredulous and mocking than he’d like, more embarrassed and damn near reaffirming Donghyuck’s suspicions. A fact the younger takes note of with a very obvious grin.

Johnny scrambles to cover his ass, scoffing enough times to be considered overkill and leaning back with his palms on the edge of the sink in an attempt to act cool under pressure. “ _Like_ him? I don’t even _know_ him.”

“So you don’t know he’s the Seeker for Slytherin’s Quidditch team?” Donghyuck shoots back.

Johnny takes pause at that, squints at him for a brief moment, then replies without even a drop of hesitation, “I thought he quit last year.”

Of course, he only realizes his own blunder when Donghyuck’s momentary surprise melts into the biggest, brightest grin Johnny’s ever seen on him, his features absolutely lighting up in pure _elation_ at catching his upperclassmen in the act.

Dread falls over Johnny and only remains as the younger refuses to drop the subject for the next week. Every chance he gets, he’s on Johnny’s heels, bouncing along beside him and chattering on and on about it. He never drops names or even mentions a crush, rather referring to it as their “little secret” while making vague plans to “help” him out, and while Johnny’s grateful that Donghyuck at least has the mental wherewithal to not expose him to all their peers, he also wishes he could be a bit _more_ discreet.

Donghyuck might not notice the lingering eyes as they walk through the halls, but Johnny does. He can feel the stares even as he keeps his head low, stepping careful everywhere he goes to avoid toes and sore spots, and yet that’s not enough.

Such becomes evident that following Friday, when Johnny finds his lonesome walk to Creatures Care, ten minutes late by the bell, interrupted by some particular unsavories.

His back hits the tree trunk hard enough to knock the wind from his lungs, and a hand on his shoulder pins him in place, pressing him back so the jagged bark digs against his spine through his shirt. So he can’t double over when the Gryffindor lands a punch to his gut.

The three students that have him cornered share a laugh at his expense, at his pained expression and at the way he holds his fists up in defense, twisting his feet into the rain-dampened dirt for stead as he takes on a stance he knows all too well even with the grip on his shoulder.

“Oh, c’mon, Suh,” the youngest of the trio chimes from where he stands, watching on with his hands on his hips and his eyebrows arched high. He wears a crooked cocky smile that completely betrays his hand-me-down beliefs, contempt on his face as he stares at the student his friend has pinned to the tree. “We just wanna hear about this _amazing_ secret of yours, no need to fight.”

“No,” the Gryffindor interrupts. Face no more than a few inches from Johnny’s, he stares down his nose at him, eyes bright and challenging. Knowing. Well aware of what he’s doing. “Go ahead if you want. Punch me.”

Overhead, a raven calls. Its cries ring through Johnny’s ears as he slowly lowers his fists in defeat, and he swears he can still feel its beady-eyed stare watching on as a fist busts his lip and he’s shoved to the ground to taste mud and blood.

There isn’t much to be done in this situation, and so he simply lies there, curled into a ball with his knees tucked to his chest and his hands over his head, and allows himself to be kicked and yelled at relentlessly. It hurts, but what hurts even worse is how he feels like he’s burning inside, anger and frustration a vicious fire in his belly, until finally -

“ _Hey!_ ”

A very particular voice cuts through all the noise, all the pain, _everything._

The three boys scatter, Johnny feeling the vibrations of their frantically departing footsteps through the dirt under his head. And then, some approaching.

He pushes himself up, gritting his teeth through the pain of moving so soon after getting his ass thoroughly handed to him. A pair of feet come to a stop in front of him as he leans back against the tree trunk, but he refuses to lift his head to meet the younger boy’s no doubt very worried eyes, clenching his jaw and keeping his head low as shame burns through him, just as hot as the anger before it.

“Are you okay?” comes Mark’s voice, soft and careful, and Johnny turns his head to avoid his gaze when he drops to a knee in front of him.

 _Of course I’m not,_ he almost wants to snap back but quickly bites his tongue to keep the words contained. He’s not going to hurt Mark, who hasn’t done shit to him besides steal his heart, just because he’s angry at himself and his own inabilities.

Silence hangs thick between them for a few moments, and then a gentle hand finds its place on Johnny’s cheek.

He immediately flinches back and sucks in a sharp breath, his temper flaring at the thought of being coddled, but when he whips to finally meet Mark’s eyes, the heated words on his tongue melt away under the absolute warmth he sees there. He freezes and stares into the universe of Mark’s eyes, and the longer he looks, the more he recognizes the emotions lingering there.

Anger, he sees deep beneath those stars, pain. There’s concern as well, likely most prominent, but no pity. Not even an ounce.

The tension drains from his body bit by bit, and Mark’s palm presses with care to the curve of his cheek, his thumb swiping away the mud before it can dry over his skin. His touch is terribly gentle, and for a brief moment, Johnny’s reminded of how Mark looked when he held the Golden Snitch after last year’s biggest game.

Slytherin won thanks to his efforts, and Mark, while stood upon the winner’s podium, during a moment when _he_ should’ve been the center of attention, held that shiny little orb close in his cupped palms and looked at it as if it was his whole world.

A small, entirely trivial trinket his everything.

Johnny cracks the slightest smile and takes a breath before murmuring a quiet, “Hey.”

And Mark huffs an incredulous little chuckle at him but smiles back regardless, his other hand coming up to cup the other side of Johnny’s face. “Hey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not entirely happy w this chapter bc i reworked it like a full five times but :')) i hope ppl enjoy it regardless <33
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/longerassride) || [cc](https://curiouscat.me/catsbyy)


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